


Elements of Friendship

by GrumpyJenn



Series: Contact [12]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Hurt/Comfort, Original Character Death(s), Sexual Content, Symbolism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-28
Updated: 2012-10-19
Packaged: 2017-11-15 05:04:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/523446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrumpyJenn/pseuds/GrumpyJenn





	1. Earth

**Author's Note:**

  * For [savvyliterate](https://archiveofourown.org/users/savvyliterate/gifts), [Amie33](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amie33/gifts), [Kerjen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kerjen/gifts).



_It’s totally ridiculous to be nervous about this,_ thought Jack Harkness as he knocked on his lover’s door. _It’s not like we haven’t been lovers for ages by her timeline, not to mention mine, and..._ But he _was_ nervous, and he felt foolish for _being_ nervous, and... his thoughts went round and round until Evie opened the door.

And then he just stood and stared at her. “Evie, you... you’re _beautiful_. I always knew it, but... in _this_ , you... it’s so _hot_...”

Evie blushed. “Not so bad yourself, lover,” she said in a husky voice, and Jack swallowed hard at her tone. Evie laughed. “And if you think I’m hot, you should see River. She’s Fire. I’m...” she gestured at her brief costume and grinned up at him.

“Ripe?” he ventured, looking her up and down lasciviously, and she laughed again and reached for him. He backed up.

“Oh no, pretty Evie,” he said in a voice that was almost a groan. “If we’re going to that fancy dress party with River and the Doctor, we’ve got to go now. And with you looking like _that_... well, we’re likely to be late if you touch me.” He grinned at her. “Whose idea was the classical elements for costumes anyway? And who decided I was Water?”

“The Doctor of all people wanted to go in these costumes; he muttered something about the symbolism of barbaric ignorance, and that’s when River and I shocked him by knowing more about ancient human mythology than he does.” She looked a bit smug as she recalled the indignant look on the Doctor’s face when she and River had pooled their knowledge to gang up on him. “He’s going as Shu, Egyptian god of wind and air - I think it’s the very tall hat that appealed to him - and River as Belisama, because it was too funny when we realised she was the goddess of fire and _rivers_. I’m Gaia, of course, and _I_ decided you were Water, my slippery and wild blue-eyed pirate Jack.” She gazed at him appreciatively; his costume was of the pirate king variety, in a deep blue that brought out his eyes, and she thought he looked positively delicious. She reached for him again, and he stepped back, holding the flowers he’d brought her in front of him like a shield. “Why, Jack,” Evie said, touched, “You brought me flowers. I don’t think you’ve ever brought me flowers before, in the...” she started to count up the years in her head, and when she realised how long it had been, she stared up at him open-mouthed.

Jack smiled down at her, and kissed her very gently, touching nothing but his lips to hers. “Happy Anniversary,” he murmured into her mouth, and stepped back again before she could fling her arms around him. “Now come on, beautiful earthy Evie; we’ve a fancy dress party to go to.”

Evie and Jack stepped down the corridor to River’s suite and knocked. The Doctor opened it and regarded Evie, then nodded once. “Symbolic of earth and hmm... fecundity. Well done.” He looked at Jack, who was grinning at him. “I don’t see the water symb... ah - pirate, yes? Sailing the seas and so forth. You need an eye patch and a cutlass. Or a parrot! Lovely birds, parrots, so colourful...” he trailed off as Evie reached up and kissed him on the lips.

“If you want to blend in with the humans tonight, Doctor, I suggest you just tell us you like our costumes.” She gave him a little smile. “Although I did rather like ‘fecundity’. So descriptive.” She ran a suggestive hand down her own soft fair skin from breast to hip and grinned as Jack shifted uncomfortably behind her. “Where’s your better half?”

“Oh, far more than half, darling Evie,” said River as she came up behind the Doctor and twined her arms around his bare waist above where the costume wrapped at his hips. She kissed him on the back of the neck and he shivered. River and Evie shared a slightly wicked smirk over the Doctor’s shoulder. Jack leaned down and whispered something naughty into Evie’s ear and she blushed along with the smirk.

“Right, well.” said the Doctor. “Time for the party then?” He offered his arm to River, who accepted it, and blew a kiss to the blue box in the corner of her sitting room, who, made her characteristic whooshing noise in reply. And the four of them trooped out the door and across the campus of Luna University to the low-grav sports dome.

Evie gasped as they entered the arena, and even the Doctor was impressed by the decor. It was inaccurate of course, but it _looked_ like the birth of a galaxy and that was all that really mattered for the purposes of a fancy dress party. And there would be dancing, and in the 52nd century the men were far less shy about dancing, which was nice. He saw a reptiloid woman waving at them from across the... well it wasn’t really a room at this point was it, more like an expanse of space, and... right, well, the woman waving at them was coming nearer and she didn’t _look_ familiar, but the voice and the scent... “Hello, Mirabel,” he said cheerily, and she looked disappointed.

“How did you know it’s me? I mean, really, you’d think the perception filter would work better than this...” She trailed off and patted her chest and her form flickered.

“You’re asking it to do too much, Mira,” explained River, and pointed to the Doctor. “We have his set to only do colouring so he looks like the part he’s playing; his costume is real. You’re using it for your entire... elaborate costume. Silurian?” Mirabel nodded and River went on. “Besides, the filter doesn’t work on scent, which is what he was going by. Very sensitive nose, my love has.”

Mirabel nodded again. “Doesn’t matter much,” she said with a sigh. “Jasper’s minding the store and I have to relieve him soon so he can come to the party. I think it’ll be a quiet night though; this group seems well-behaved.” She smiled around at all of them and bent to give Evie a smacking kiss. “You all look great,” she said enviously. “I’ll see if I can join in again later.” And she was gone.

It was a great party. Food and drinks and dancing and fabulous costumes. Evie spotted several aliens that she couldn’t tell whether they were natural forms or costumes (although, she reflected, the Doctor probably could) but by about midnight local time she’d had enough of the teasing flirtation dance she and Jack had been playing at all night. She sidled up to him and wrapped herself around him, stroking his bum and pulling him down to whisper a naughty suggestion into his ear. He turned his head to kiss her at that and she moaned his name into his mouth. After that he couldn’t get her out of there fast enough, and he scooped her up in proper pirate fashion to take her back to her rooms. Jack put Evie down so she could unlock her door, but when she got it open and pulled him inside he found himself backed up against it, Evie pinning him there with her slight weight.

She climbed him like a tree, frantically pulling at the tight trousers of his costume until he sprang free and she settled onto him with a groan of pleasure. “Christ, _Evie_ ,” Jack hissed into her mouth as she rode him, and then she clamped down hard as she came around him. She was always enthusiastic about loving, but _this_ , this was fucking incredible.

Evie didn’t stop after she came, just kept moving, stroking him with her whole curvy little body in that brief costume even as she rode him. And then she leaned back and started rubbing herself where their bodies were joined and the sensation was almost too much for Jack. “Bed,” he panted, and she leaned back further, changing the angle and tightening around him. He managed to take a step, two, more, and fell with her across the bed.

And then it was Jack’s turn to ride. For twenty years in her personal time he’d loved her gently and sweetly, terrified of hurting her. But tonight she was like a wild thing, clawing and biting at him, playing rough and saying the _dirtiest_ things, and it was more than even Jack Harkness could take for very long. He shouted her name as he came, and she clenched around him again, and they lay panting together across her big soft bed. And eventually they slept.

The soft chime of the holo-phone impinged itself on Evie’s consciousness, and she tried to wriggle out from under Jack, but he was too heavy. “Lover,” she said softly, nudging him, “The phone.” He woke with a start and looked down at her, smiling and moving as if to kiss her but she pulled back as the phone began to talk in its quiet, impersonal voice.

“Sheriff Mirabel Baker calling for Professor Evie Jones. Urgent call. Please respond.”

Jack and Evie looked at each other for a moment, and then scrambled to sit up. Jack was tucking himself into his trousers as Evie answered the call. _Oh dear,_ thought Evie, _something is very wrong; Mirabel’s not in her office_. “What is it, Sheriff?” she asked, concerned, and felt dread settle over her at the expression on the older woman’s face.

“I’m sorry, Evie,” said the sheriff, “But I’m at the clinic with a friend of yours, that reptiloid priestess. I think she’s ill. I don’t speak her language and all she will say is your name, yours and Jack’s.”

Jack and Evie shared another long look, and he nodded.

“We’ll be right there.”


	2. Air

“Hello, Sweetie,” River purred at the Doctor, snuggling her head under his chin. They had just returned to her rooms, and were sitting on her floor with their backs against the blue wall of the TARDIS. He watched her curls wave with his every breath, noting with part of his mind that the slightest variation in air current caused a much larger movement of each bouncy curl.

He loved her hair.

And really, though she’d had that tall Egyptian headdress off him the second they were back in her rooms - really an unreasonable attitude toward his hats he thought - he loved, well, _her_. _His_ River Song, bespoke but not really a psychopath, the woman who married him.

“What is it, my love?” _There’s another thing_ , he thought, _so perceptive. She knows when I’m fretting and_... She twisted around to look at him. “Are you all right, Sweetie?” she asked with concern, that little pucker between her eyebrows catching the light. He kissed the spot and smoothed it with his fingers, and she smiled up at him. He let the fingers trail down the side of her face and whinged slightly as she turned her head to capture one in her mouth. His breath began to come faster as she nibbled at the finger. He closed his eyes to better concentrate on the sensation, and let out a satisfied little sigh as she transferred her lips to his.

“ _River_.” His voice had gone rough as it so often did when she kissed him like this, and his hands fluttered like birds until they settled into the wild nest of her hair. He pulled her body flush against his, toppling flat on his back on the floor, and she landed on top of him, squirming gently until she settled against him. “River...” It was a moan this time, and her breathless murmur in response nearly undid him entirely. Her lips ghosted over his, up the line of his jaw and against his throat, and her hands drifted down his arms to grip his hips. “ _Oh_...” He disentangled his fingers from her hair and slid them with aching deliberation down the slope of her back, and she arched up, her hips grinding into his.

“Love me,” she breathed into his ear, and he slipped one long-fingered hand under the short skirt she wore and stroked the damp skin through her knickers. _Always and completely, my River,_ he thought, and she smiled against the skin of his throat even as she tilted her hips to better meet his touch. “My love,” she whispered, and unwrapped the cloth around his hips. He shuddered as she took him in her hand and began to stroke from root to tip and back again, his own hand moving faster against her. He slipped two long fingers deep inside her, stroking her inside and out, and she cried out his name as she came undone under his touch.

River was still quaking as she shucked off the knickers and took the Doctor into her body, writhing atop him as he panted her name. She wrapped her legs around him, fastened her lips to his, and rolled them over so she lay on her back. He tried to say her name, to tell her how much he loved her, needed her, but she pulled him in deeper and then it was all incoherent moaning and sighs and _release_ for both of them. _You transport me_ , he thought as he came apart inside her, and she heard it in her mind, _you take me to places that even I have never been, my River..._

They lay together on the floor of River’s sitting room, still entwined, breath mingling as their loving slowed into languorous kisses and soft caresses. Presently River let out a deep sigh, and the Doctor tried to get to his feet but she pulled him back down to her. “Stay with me,” she murmured into his ear. “That sigh was of contentment, my love, nothing else.” He smiled into her curls but shook his head and got up, leaning down to help her to her feet. He tugged her gently to her bed and pulled back the duvet.

“It’s gone two in the morning, my River,” he said as she climbed in, “and I’d rather have my naughty way with you in the bed than on the floor next time.” He kissed the tip of her nose then, removed the rest of her clothes, and proceeded to love her thoroughly and completely twice more before the holo-phone chimed two hours later.

“Professor Evie Jones calling for Professor River Song. Urgent call. Please respond.”

River sat up and hurriedly threw on her dressing gown, then went to stand in front of the phone’s pickup. “Answer call,” she said, and the holo resolved into an image of Evie Jones, pale and tearstained but in control of herself. River and the Doctor could see that she wasn’t at home, she was at the green-tiled student clinic, and that it wasn’t she who was hurt. She was wearing surgical scrubs, and River could see Jack behind her, bending over a medi-bed. The Doctor looked over River’s shoulder.

“What is it, Evie?” he asked gently. “Who’s ill?”

Evie’s image looked up at him. “It’s Isrea, Doctor. She’s not ill - unless there’s secondary infection. She’s injured. And delirious, I think, her English is gone and I don’t speak Haemogoth and that’s why I need your help, Doctor, please come help, I--” Her babbling was cut off by Jack putting a gentling hand on her arm and she took a deep breath. “Can you help?”

“Of course, Evie. We’ll be right there. Phone off.” As her image disappeared he turned to River and said, looking somewhat hurt, “Does she really think I wouldn’t help? I...”

“Hush, my love. Evie’s worried and not herself. We’ll sort it.” She was changing into street clothes as she spoke. “Ah, Sweetie? Were you planning on getting dressed? Just a thought; the loincloth and eyeliner might frighten Isrea...” He shook his head and grinned at her, then ducked into the TARDIS to change.

Evie nearly sobbed with relief when River and the Doctor entered the clinic, and immediately felt ashamed of herself. She treated her close friends all the time; why was she so weepy about this one? But she’d felt sick since she’d seen Isrea’s battered form an hour ago, and having someone who could understand the reptiloid  when she wasn’t speaking English in her stilted and hissing way was a huge relief. Evie flung herself at the Doctor, who leaned down to hug her and patted her back in a way that seemed familiar. “Thank you,” she whispered, and he pulled away to look at her.

“Any time. Right! Now, let’s see what’s what here, shall we?” He switched to Haemogoth; he didn’t speak it _well_ \- he hadn’t the tongue for it - but he was able to make himself understood. “This one greets Isrea, Moving-water-over-pebbles, of the Haemogoth,” he said as he walked toward the medi-bed, and then stopped short as he reached it and saw her. “Oh, _Isrea_ ,” he murmured under his breath, “I am so sorry.” He leaned in close to listen and sniffed at her head, then winced and straightened, turned to look at the other three. His eyes were full of pain. “She’s not just injured, Evie,” he said in that soft voice that indicated quiet fury. “She’s been tortured.”

Evie stood there, swaying slightly as she tried to take that in, and Jack stepped forward to support her. “What do you mean, Doc?” he asked, his voice almost as quiet and hard as the Doctor’s.

“He means,” said River grimly, “that someone tortured Isrea. Haemogoth don’t moult, Jack; their feathers don’t just fall out. The problem is...” she reached out almost involuntarily to stroke Isrea’s wrist but realised in time that the usually comforting action would be incredibly painful because of the raw places where the feathers had been torn away. “The problem is that, well... that’s about all we know about the Haemogoth.” She looked at them with tears in her eyes. “I’m sorry. I’ve studied them, but not any--”

“We remember,” interrupted Jack, as he absently stroked Evie’s hair. “So the question is this: who _does_ have medical information on the Haemogoth? We can’t go to the Haemogoth planet; we don’t even know where it is. Isrea always takes us there in our sleep.” He looked around at them helplessly.

“I know someone,” the Doctor said in that same quiet tone. “At least, I _may_ know someone who can help. River knows her too...” River looked up at him with a question in her eyes and he nodded. “When the Haemogoth were... acting as gods to some of the human populations of Earth...”

“...they were contemporaries of the Silurians,” finished River. “And Vastra might help. I’ve been to Demon’s Run, Sweetie, both times. I’ll get her for you.” She gave him a slightly wicked grin. “She may respond to a request from a female better in any case, since she paid her debt to you at Demon’s Run.”

“Vastra?” put in Jack. The Doctor thought he had that surprised-but-not look on his face. “Sexy lizard lady from London, circa 1890? We’ve met.”

The Doctor rolled his eyes. “Of course you have. Did she kill you?” Jack shook his head. “Good, then go with River. I’ll stay here with Evie in case Isrea wakes enough to say something coherent in any language.” He smiled at Evie and gave her a friendly one-armed hug. “You and me, Professor Jones, we’ll keep it sorted until they get back.” He turned to look at his wife and the man he thought of as a brother. “What are you waiting for? Go get us a Silurian.”


	3. Water

“Madame Vastra?” The reptiloid woman looked up at the sound of a human voice and saw a tall human with dark hair and blue eyes. He - or she, sometimes it was hard to tell with mammals, though she thought this one was male - moved carefully toward her and showed no surprise at a six-foot tall lizard in Victorian clothes. She surmised he was a time-traveller. And as he approached, she realised that he looked familiar, as though she had seen him before, although then he had been wearing period dress...

“Ah,” she said, and folded her hands. “Has Torchwood finally sent you to kill me?” He shook his head and grinned as a second voice, this one impatient and very familiar, floated through the door behind him.

“Jack Harkness, I asked you to wait! I... oh. Hello, Madame Vastra.”

Vastra inclined her head. “Melody Pond,” she said cordially, and the woman shook her head.

“Right now I’m River Song,” she said, “And we need your help.”

“I owe you and yours nothing anymore,” said Vastra coolly, “But I may help if I am interested. So speak. What help of mine do you need?”

“We have a friend who has been injured - tortured really - and we don’t know medical treatment for her species. You might, as your people and hers were contemporaries.” River’s voice got both louder and faster as she spoke. “Her name is Isrea and she’s of the Haemogoth and she’s hurt, someone pulled out all of her feathers and...” She trailed off as Vastra gave an angry hiss.

“I will help,” Vastra said tightly, and then muttered something in a language that River and Jack assumed must be Silurian. Her human lover and maid, Jenny, came running and peeked in, but as soon as she heard what Vastra was saying, the young woman’s face blanched and she fled. Jack trailed after her, but River stood and watched Vastra, fascinated. Presently she realised that Vastra was speaking in exotically accented English again, though the words were still furiously angry. “This offense shall _not_ be borne; we do not allow the Younger People to injure one another. It will _not_ happen!”

“Madame Vastra,” ventured River, “Can you come with us? Oh, I know we’ve a time machine and there’s no real urgency but it doesn’t _feel_ that way, it never does, and--” She broke off as Vastra held up one hand.

“Of course I will child,” she said shortly. “Let me tell Jenny what we need to bring with us.”

“Jenny heard you... speaking.” Vastra flashed River a smile full of sharp teeth; she knew that River was being delicate, “And she left. Jack went after her. I hope that’s not a problem... Jack can be very... friendly...” She paused again as Vastra strode to her and grasped her chin firmly in one delicately taloned hand.

“You’re very strong for a mammal,” she said, “Full of fire and wit. And you don’t blush like your Doctor does. But no, if Jenny decides to mate with Jack Harkness, that is acceptable to me. She is not a slave or a body-servant. Now is perhaps not the best time however.” She paused, recalling something. “How is it that the TARDIS did not translate my words to you? You have her here with you, do you not?”

“Yes, but she requires the Doctor’s presence to translate automatically. He’s back at Luna University in the fifty-second with Isrea.”

Vastra’s eyes widened. “You left him there to speak Haemogoth without the TARDIS? He hasn’t the tongue for it, or the crest. This Isrea of yours will never understand him.”

“She has before, but now she’s...” River’s eyes filled with tears, and Vastra reflected that while River _was_ very strong for a mammal, a mammal she still was, with all the weaknesses that implied. She patted the human’s shoulder.

“Come with me. I’ve a room you may like to see while we wait for Jenny and the Captain.”

Jenny sat on a bench under a shade in the garden, shivering, and Jack approached her carefully. He wasn’t at all sure how she would react; she was very forward-thinking for her time, true (time travellers often were, for good reason), but she was still a product of the 19th century. So he was careful not to startle her as he slid onto the bench next to her. “Are you alright, Miss Jenny?” he asked gently, unconsciously slipping into Victorian speech patterns. She nodded, but it was a very doubtful nod, and the shivering did not stop. “May I be of assistance?”

“I’ve met them, you know,” Jenny said softly. “The Haemogoth. They didn’t like me... and they said terrible things to Vastra about ‘consorting with mammals’. And _she’s_ not even their species; I shudder to think what they might do to one of their own who...” She did shudder then, and Jack put an arm around her shoulders. She leaned her head into his chest. “I’m sure your friend is lovely, and I’m sure she’s not the only one of them who is... but the few I met were... well, _bigots_.”

“We’ll fix it, if your lady will help,” Jack said, and squeezed her shoulders, then let go of her and stood up. He stood outside the cover over the bench, ignoring the fine drizzly rain so characteristic of London. _My fault then_ , he thought, _that Isrea has been._.. it was his turn to shudder, and Jenny put a gentle hand on his arm.

“Come on,” she said, “let’s go to see if Madame Vastra has calmed enough for rationality.”

Jack shook his head as though to clear it, and smiled down at her. “You go,” he said, voice rough with emotion, “I’ll stay here for a bit if that’s alright.” He looked out over the dripping wet garden and sighed. “River will know when to come get me.”

Jenny found her mistress and their guest in the armoury, animatedly discussing the virtues of pulse pistols versus those of laser swords. She cleared her throat, and when the women turned to her, explained that Jack was in the garden, and inquired as to whether they were going to help this Isrea. Vastra nodded solemnly. “Yesss,” she said, and her agitation was clear in the hissing sound of her voice. “We will help. It is not the _placsse_ of ssome of the Younger People to injure otherss in their hubriss and bigotry! I shall rend their li...” She stopped, visibly collected herself, and continued, more calmly, though still hissing her sibilants. “We will help. River Ssong, go get Captain Harknesss; we will leave as ssoon as we are properly armed.” She waited until River left the room and beckoned to Jenny. “Will you be well? I cannot assk you to make yoursself a target for them again, but...”

“I’ll be fine, Madame,” said Jenny. “Because I know that they are _wrong_.”

“Not all of them are as unsssympathetic as the ones you have met, my Jenny. But they are a young people, nearly as young as humanss, and they are easily misssled by a few sstrong among them.” She held out her arms and when Jenny stepped into them, she embraced the young human gently but fiercely, then stepped back. “Come. Let usss get our weaponss.”

 _Oh dear,_ thought River as she ventured outside, _he’s blaming himself again. God knows we all understand that._ She sighed and walked along the shiny-wet gravel pathway toward him, and when she came even with him, she saw that he had been crying. “Not your fault, Jack,” she said quietly as she put an affectionate arm around his waist. “I know it’s one of those things you know with your mind and not with your heart, but try to remember it anyway.” He nodded without looking at her and wiped his eyes, though the misty rain made his cheeks instantly wet again. River tugged gently on his arm. “Come on, Jack. Let’s go.”

The four of them entered the TARDIS, and Jenny looked around her with wide eyes while the Silurian woman got a distant look on her face, and nodded once. “That does leave one with a headache,” she said shortly, and Jack smiled at her. “How is it,” she said, and Jack could tell she had calmed by her voice. “How is it that the infamous Jack Harkness of Torchwood never came to get me and my sisters?”

“By the time I knew you were doing harm, you had stopped,” he said, “And I think we both learned that lesson from the same man, that vengeance and justice are not the same. I hope I can remember it when we come across the Haemogoth who did... _that_... to my friend Isrea. I can’t always...” He trailed off as she patted his hand.

“Tell me,” she invited him. “Tell me about Isrea and your friendship and how you met. It will pass the time, and it will help me to know her so that I can keep firmly in mind that not all of the Younger People are the same.”

And so he told them of Isrea. River listened, and although she had been there when they met, and on and off through the handful of years they had known each other, she hadn’t realised how very close the three of them - Jack, Evie, and Isrea - had become. Jack Harkness was not the most eloquent speaker of her acquaintance, but when he spoke of someone he loved - of Isrea or Evie or the Doctor or poor lost Ianto or River herself - when he spoke of _them_ the words just _flowed_.

“Ah, I see,” said Vastra as the TARDIS materialised on Luna. “She is a mate and a friend. From what I know of the Younger People, her association with you and your Evie is not the _cause_ of her hurt, I think, but only an _excuse_ for those of her kind who hate mammals. To make an example of her so that other, younger Haemogoth are reluctant to leave the nest. This shall not be allowed, if I have to call the Conclave myself and exercise my authority as one of the Elder People. It would be better, I think, if Isrea did so herself. Well.” She stood and clapped her hands together briskly. “Let us go and see what we shall see. Captain?” She held out one scaled hand to Jack, and together they left the police box, with River and Jenny following in their wake.

 

 


	4. Fire

River caught her breath as the four of them walked into the clinic and she saw Isrea. The Haemogoth woman was propped into a sitting position now, and she was conscious again, but the sores where her crest and her wrist-feathers had been were damp and infected-looking. At least, it would be infection in a mammal, that thick yellowish ichor seeping from the wounds.

“Oh, Young One,” said Vastra in a tone more horrified than even Jenny had ever heard her use, and then she began to speak in that serpentine language the Haemogoth used, all vowels and hisses and clicks, and the TARDIS translated the sound as a litany that went something like _you will be well, Elder Sister called Vastra shall care for you, and the ones who did this thing shall be punished_. Isrea was shaking her head human fashion, but Vastra took her face between cool and scaled hands and spoke. The TARDIS translated it in the same formal phrasing she always did with the Haemogoth language. “Isrea is not to blame for this thing! The shame is on those who have hurt Isrea, for those ones are no longer _People_ ; they are as the dung of beetles for causing hurt to Isrea!”

River remembered the first time they had met Isrea, and she thought perhaps she understood why the Haemogoth woman felt ashamed. Her people either killed you or left you alone; there was no middle ground. Torture like Isrea had suffered by one - or more - of her own kind was unthinkable. So she felt culpable, as though she had brought this upon herself, and therefore ashamed. And River felt anger deep inside her begin to burn, that someone could do this to gentle Isrea of all people. “Where can I find them, Isrea?” she asked, fuming. “Where can we find the bastards who did this to you?” Isrea shook her head again, but less frantically this time; clearly Vastra’s words were getting through to her. “I mean it, Isrea. We love you, and whoever hurt you, we need...” She trailed off as Isrea held up one delicately scaled hand.

“Isrea has heard the Elder Sister’s words, River Song. Isrea knows that this one is not at fault, but Isrea needs _peace_. Revenge is not the way of Isrea’s people.”

“Neither is _torture_ the way of your people, Isrea,” said River, in a voice that was very nearly a snarl. She shrugged off the restraining hands Jack and the Doctor put on her shoulders, but when Evie stepped between her and Isrea, she stopped.

“River,” said Evie quietly, “Please don’t do this. I know you’re angry, and you’re trying to help her, but she’s...” a tiny sob escaped her... “She would only feel badly if you took revenge on her behalf. Please.” River looked down at Evie, remembering how they had first met, how quiet Isrea was, how both of them could take care of themselves in spite of their gentle natures, and she let out a long sigh of grudging acceptance.

Vastra turned to River, speaking in a low and urgent tone, her sibilants hissing again. “I pledge you, River Sssong, that if chassstisement is required, you and I shall be at the forefront of the battle.” River gave her a slightly bloodthirsty smile and they heard the Doctor murmur something like _kinda do a bit._ But then Isrea spoke again.

She struggled to lean forward. “If violence becomes needful,” she said in a soft but forceful tone, “then Isrea would trust _no-one_ for defence more than River Song and Elder Sister Vastra. And Jack Harkness. But Isrea hopes chastisement is not required.” She sat back. “Isrea would give of this one’s own life in apology for this one’s transgressions,” she said quietly, “but Isrea thinks that _these_ ones - Isrea’s den-loves - would not forgive the giving.” She reached out for Evie’s wrist and subsided into silence.

Evie took a deep breath. “I can’t stop you from taking your own life, Isrea; that’s your decision,” she said with tears behind her voice. “But I would ask that you wait until you are well to make that decision.” She smiled sadly up at Jack as he put his arms around her, and at River and the Doctor, who looked at her with a certain surprise. “You thought I’d never forgive you, sweet Isrea? Of course I would; I love you. It has to be your choice, but please, _please_ wait until you are well. I... excuse me.” She hurried out of the room, and River murmured something to her husband and followed.

River found Evie sitting on the edge of a planter, knees drawn up against her chest. She looked very small and defenceless, and although River knew better, she felt a maternal sort of tug as she sat next to her old friend. “You surprised me, Evie,” River said quietly, “But then I realised; you’ve always been this way.” She smiled as Evie turned her head to look at her. “You’re sweet and gentle and easily hurt, and you look about twelve - but then I’m in love with the Doctor so I know how much _that_ matters. But you are one of the most _pragmatic_ people I’ve ever met. You see things so _clearly_. I admire that about you. I always have, even when it surprises me.” Her tone hardened then, and she spoke through gritted teeth. “I want to _hurt_ them, Evie; I want to hurt the people who hurt my friends, and _this_...” She shuddered. “I don’t understand why you _don’t_ , but...”

Evie unfolded herself and turned to wrap her arms around River, snuggling her head on River’s shoulder. “But I _do_ , River. I want to hurt them, just like I wanted to hurt those... _things_... that hurt you, or anyone who hurts my Jack or the Doctor. But that’s not _me_ , and it’s not Isrea. We’re not fighters; we leave that to you and Jack and Rory and that Silurian lady in there. It doesn’t mean the desire to ‘chastise’ isn’t there, River. It just means we act on it differently.” She pulled away and smiled at the older woman; it was a small and sad and tired smile, but a smile nonetheless. “And as for Isrea and... giving her life for her perceived transgressions, I...” she looked troubled and close to tears again, took a deep and shaky breath. “I don’t like it, not at all. But unless it’s my life, it’s not my call. Isrea’s not even _human_ ; I don’t know what’s normal for her culture - much less for a priest. I--” And here the threatened tears appeared, and River felt both that burning anger deep in her chest, and a sad sort of resignation in her throat as she gathered Evie in and held her close, each drawing strength from the other.

 _They both look a bit red and puffy about the eyes_ , thought the Doctor as the two women entered the clinic a few minutes later, _but not really the worse for wear._ Now it would be time to decide what to do.

 _Interesting,_ thought Vastra as she turned away from her examination of the injured Haemogoth, _so much fire and fight in River Song’s soul and so little in this Evie’s, and yet they are the best of friends._ It gave her something to think about, adding another layer to her knowledge of mammals.

It hurt Jack to see them, so well-beloved and in such pain. He was with River, wanting to kill - no, not just _kill_ , but rather pummel the so-called people who did this into a bloody pulp until they begged for mercy. He knew that Evie would be both revolted and understanding, so he held his peace and watched to see what would happen. He had a sinking feeling that he knew.

And he was right. “Little Sister,” Vastra said gently to Isrea, “You know what I must say. Would you like for me to say the words in private?”

Isrea shook her head human fashion and Evie bowed her head. “Isrea is dying,” the Haemogoth said, “And would spend the last days with Isrea’s den-loves. No, _nest_ loves; Evie and Jack are of Isrea’s nest. Will those ones stay with this one?”

“Of course we will,” Evie said in a choked but steady voice, and Jack nodded. Evie turned to Vastra. “Is there nothing you can do? I thought perhaps it was my lack of experience with Haemogoth physiology...” but she trailed off as Vastra shook her head.

“I can ease her pain; it will take drugs that will make her sleepy, but she has lost too much... not blood precisely, but the fluid that... it is not important. She will not survive. I grieve with you.” Evie smiled that sad little smile up at Vastra and turned to the others.

“Perhaps together we can ease her pain without the drugs, Jack, Doctor, River... River? Where did she go?” Isrea raised a hand weakly, and spoke her name.

“River... silently took leave of these ones when the Elder Sister told Isrea that death is coming,” she said quietly. “River Song is of those who burn with the need to fight when sadness comes. River will return once the fire is banked.” The Doctor nodded and smiled at Isrea.

“Best description of my River I’ve ever heard.” He grew quickly serious. “Isrea, is there... anything we can do for you? I would take you home but I don’t know how to get there and I don’t think you’re... really...” He sniffled and wiped his eyes. “Idon’tthinkyou’reuptoit,” he said in a rush.

“Sexy knows how to get to Isrea’s home. Isrea needs to... give speakings to those who have done this thing.” If she were human, Evie reflected, she would be speaking through clenched teeth, whether from pain or anger was not clear. “Those of the Temple Conclave who have done this thing shall not be allowed to continue, or _all_ the People will be at risk for... this.” She gestured at the oozing sores on her head and wrists, and it was clear that she was in a great deal of pain from the stiffness of her movements. “Isrea...” she gasped, “Isrea would be grateful if the pain could be lessened so that Isrea can give speakings to the Temple Conclave.”

“Perhaps I can help with that,” said River from the doorway. She had changed into the outfit the Doctor called her ‘kit’; she was clearly stripped for action, ready to go in guns blazing. “Let’s go get us some corrupt priests.”

 

 

 

 


	5. Spirit

As lovely as her den-loves and nest-loves were, they could not understand what she had to do; they were not Haemogoth. Oh, the Doctor accepted without truly understanding, as did Evie, but Jack and River merely wanted to hurt the wrongdoers physically, and that would not do; they must be stopped and this thing must never happen again. She wondered whether Elder Sister Vastra and her mammalian mating-love Jenny understood. Perhaps.

The Doctor watched Isrea from the corner of his eye as she sat in the jump seat, ready for Evie and the TARDIS to try to give her a sort of mental pain block. It had been a couple of years in his personal time - a few more in hers - since they’d met, under such odd and unpleasant circumstances. But he realised he cared deeply for the Haemogoth priest, as deeply as any other travelling companion, though they’d only shared a few adventures. There was a dull ache around his hearts as he watched her. _So brave_ , he thought, _dying and so brave. May you fly high_.

River felt the ache in her chest as well, and she wanted nothing more than to _hurt_ whoever - Isrea had not told the specifics - had done this terrible thing to her friend. She too remembered the day they had met, but more importantly, she remembered that Isrea was a priest. And yet River loved her and trusted her as she had no clergy in her long life. So she would have to hold back the burning need to hurt those who had hurt Isrea, and trust the Haemogoth woman to do what was right.

Jack watched his lovers as they calmed and cared for each other. Evie was a healer of the body and the mind and the heart, and Isrea of the soul, and it was lovely to watch them with each other. He remembered the terrible things he had said and done to Isrea when they met, and her grace even through her fear of him. He felt tears well up in his eyes, but choked them back as Evie called his name.

“Jack,” Evie said in that steady voice that meant she was beyond tears, grounded in her own training. “I can do this on my own with help from the TARDIS, but Isrea loves you, and if you can support me, it will be easier. It might even alleviate more of the pain.” Jack nodded and came toward them, kneeling at Isrea’s feet. “Put your fingers here,” Evie said, guiding them to Isrea’s head where temples would be on a human and leaving her own atop them. “Close your eyes and just... be rock-steady for me, lover. Okay?” He complied and _felt_ Isrea relax as the pain and fever abated enough for her to function.

Jack opened his eyes and looked down at Isrea’s. Hers were still fever-bright, but no longer glassy with pain, and she reached up to stroke his face. “Isrea thanks the friends for taking this one home,” she whispered. “Isrea must speak for the Temple Conclave, and...”

“Hush, Isrea. Save your strength for the speech,” Jack murmured, and Isrea fell into a deep sleep. Jack turned to the others. “Now what?”

“Now the Younger Sister must rest. When we arrive on Haemogoth we shall cover her wounds so she can reveal them in her own time,” said Vastra seriously. “I warn you, Jack Harkness, Evie Jones, that the Haemogoth will not be kind to you - the _People_ are accepting of mammals, but the Conclave is something else again. My old friend and his love already know this, but you should know for your own safety.”

River nodded. “Religious fanatics are... well. You know how I feel about the Church.” She smiled up at the Doctor as he took her hand. “In any case, as I understand it from the stories I was told, Isrea is the scholarly sort of priest, whose natural modesty and kindness serve her well in that sort of... humble position. But there are four High Priests, whose beliefs are so extreme as to be nearly a cult within the larger ancestor-worship teachings of the Temple. I suspect these four are the ones who...” She made an eloquent gesture toward the sleeping Haemogoth woman, “Or who ordered it done; that type rarely gets their hands dirty. What?” Vastra and Jenny were staring at her.

“I kinda like it when you get all professorial, my River,” said the Doctor, and she batted at him and told him to hush. “I expect they do too.”

The TARDIS made her characteristic wheezing noise and landed, and Vastra woke Isrea and bundled her up into a hooded cloak, then lifted her gently and waited for the old girl to open her doors. “Ready?”

They filed out onto a raised platform at the end of a very long room that was clearly a religious edifice, and a shocked murmur ran through the assemblage on the lower floor. One of the four Haemogoth priests on the platform started to his feet and came toward them, shouting about desecration of the Temple, his ornate robes swishing around his ankles.

But Isrea spoke as Vastra deposited her gently on her feet, and although her voice was weak, some trick of the acoustics of the room projected it loudly. “This one demands the right to speak before the Conclave! This one’s name is Isrea, and this one has been defiled and murdered by these ones, the High Priests of the temple. Will those ones hear this one?” The crowd quieted but the four high priests did not, and River got the satisfaction of subduing one, Jack another, and Vastra and Jenny the last two. “Do not kill these ones, friends of Isrea, for these ones must be seen for the scum that these ones are.” Isrea stopped, gasping for breath, and Evie and the Doctor went to stand on either side of her for support. Evie held her hand.

Isrea recovered enough to speak again. “Isrea asks the brothers of the Conclave, what is the punishment for consorting with mammals?” She listened carefully, and when she heard someone with the right answer speak she held out one scaled hand to him and he came to join her on the platform. “Can the brother tell the Conclave the answer again?”

“Th-the punishment for consorting with mammals is... nothing, Sister Isrea. Mammals are considered young and... uncouth... but mammals are not Unclean Ones. There should be no punishment, although many would shun the one who consorted so.” His crest feathers were flaring in the way that meant he was horribly nervous, and Evie realised he was quite young, perhaps even still an adolescent. He continued, reassured that he was speaking correctly as Sister Isrea and most of the Conclave made little hisses and murmurs of agreement. “In times many thousands of sun-cycles ago, the mammals known as _humans_ were as the children of the Haemogoth, and worshipped the Haemogoth as Gods. How then could the Haemogoth not consort with mammals?”

Isrea reached out and squeezed his wrist gently above his feathers, then spoke as she pointed at the four priests being held by her friends. “And yet _those_ ones, who as High Priests should know the Laws best, those ones did _this_ to Isrea... for the transgression of consorting with humans.”

And she took off her hooded cloak.

The room exploded into confusion, Haemogoth priests of all ranks shouting and hissing. Of the hundreds in the room, about a third crowded onto the stage, and although the four friends tried to keep hold of their prisoners, the crowd was too much for them. As the High Priest was wrested away from River Song, she grinned at him, deliberately showing all her teeth, and let him go. And the four disappeared into the mob below the platform; from the sounds of it they were suffering as they had made Isrea suffer.

And then they were gone.

But Isrea was trying to speak again, and the young priest shouted one word as he held her upright. The crowd quieted immediately, and looked up at Isrea. “What is the name of that one?” Isrea whispered, and he told her. She squeezed his wrist gently, whispered in his ear-hole, and at the equivalent of a nod, turned painfully to speak to the assemblage. “Isrea is dying,” she said simply, and there was a low moaning hiss among the people. Evie grasped her hand tighter. “This one...” Isrea gasped, “This one is Isrea’s successor, keeper of the... the guest-places and custodian of...” She swayed on her feet and Jack moved to grasp her by the waist for support. “Custodian of the Ancestor-places... and... friend of the mammals. Be kind to... this one, called Sreth, Deep-water-of-the-sea, and remember... Isrea, Moving-water-over-pebbles.”

And then she died.

\---/--- 

The Haemogoth burn their dead, with flowers and fronds from the tree that Evie would forever think of as the _pink feathery palm_. She stood in the circle of Jack’s arms as every priest left in the Conclave turned out in what appeared to be their humblest clothes, and listened to the newest of them speak. It was a very short speech

“Isrea was much beloved in the Temple,” Sreth said, “A true priest who thought of the Temple as a nest and the entire universe as a den. Sreth hopes to be like Isrea in the fullness of time, for such love and humility is the True Way of the priest.”

That was all, but Evie thought it was beautiful. She cried a little, but mostly she felt that Isrea had gotten exactly what she wanted, for her life and her death to _mean_ something.

There was nothing after the funeral, just everyone going their own way, and a year - a _sun-cycle_ \- from now, Isrea’s ashes and those of the flowers buried with her would be scattered over her favourite places. The Doctor had offered to come and help with that, but he was told firmly but politely that his help was not needed, except that his ship was one of the places, and would he mind coming back for that? That was when the Doctor had choked up and muttered something about _humany-wumany_ and sniffled. And then promised.

\---/--- 

The ashes had been scattered, the grieving had eased.

 

And Isrea’s spirit soared through the universe that was now her nest.


End file.
